


A Spark to Light the Dark

by crimson__witch, curseandtell



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Slow Burn, F/F, Gen, Give Zelda Spellman a Child 2021, Grief, Lilith Has Trust Issues!, Motherhood, Resurrection, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn Zelda Spellman/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith, Spoilers for Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, eventual sexiness we promise, eventual softness we promise, slowest of burns in fact
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28585212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimson__witch/pseuds/crimson__witch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/curseandtell/pseuds/curseandtell
Summary: Lilith needs a favor. Zelda needs a miracle.//Set after CAOS part 4. Contains major spoilers for CAOS part 4. If you do not want major spoilers for CAOS part 4, do not read.//
Relationships: Zelda Spellman/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith
Comments: 39
Kudos: 132





	1. Adeline

**Author's Note:**

> A note from curseandtell:  
> I figured CAOS Part 4 would make me want to write again, and then I, uh, actually watched it and felt pretty discouraged for a few days. My girlfriend and I had many conversations about why we were both disappointed, and about our respective faves/the wrongs done to them. We ended up brewing the idea for a fic we thought could be fun and challenging to work on together. Hopefully you will find it fun to read! My gf (crimson__witch) handles Lilith, I handle Zelda, and we juggle the rest of the characters as we see fit. The first two chapters are each from specific POVs, and the following chapters will be more of a collaborative effort.  
> As always, feedback is appreciated and welcomed.  
> xx,  
> C
> 
> //BIG LARGE HUGE SPOILER BELOW//  
> One major thing to note: We have decided to keep the mess that was the final season fully intact, EXCEPT that Nick did not die. We aren't even remotely attached to Nick, we just really did not like the casual implications about his manner of death, and in the long run, our story will be better served having him alive and well.

Things were becoming unmanageable. 

It was not supposed to be this way. She had learned long, long ago that things rarely happened as they _should_ — but this… the events of the last year… even she could not have anticipated it all.

After millennia spent at Lucifer’s side — love aged to collaboration, soured to control and devolved into abuse — Lilith had finally done what she had fantasized about doing for centuries: taken what was hers. 

At last, on the throne of Hell she sat. Again.

Of course, it was not so simple. Drinking Lucifer’s blood and banishing him to wander the mortal realm, powerless, had been simultaneously immensely satisfying and terribly, emotionally devastating. The clarity that moment had produced was… almost unbearable. _Millennia_ spent believing Lucifer would make good on his promise to crown her queen, _millennia_ spent serving him, suffering at his hand. She had loved him, once. Had spent nearly her entire life beyond the garden with… him. Had been manipulated by him, exploited, violated. Had _groveled_ , and cowered. 

She saw it all, in that moment.

And then it was… over.

But the battle was not finished — not nearly. Hell was not an easy realm to rule, Sabrina Morningstar’s brief, absurd regency aside; the young, naive witch had only escaped the wrath of the Kings and the Court thanks to the protection of her dear _father_. 

Lilith had faced many challenges in the days and weeks following Lucifer’s banishment — vengeful Kings, heretofore unknown ‘heirs’ to the throne, rebellious members of the Court… the list dragged on. Yet despite it all she had managed to fend them off, to stack her own Council and circle with ancient witches admired and trusted.

And eventually, one day weeks after that fateful moment on the floor before the throne, she had found the time to breathe, to pause and consider something other than her own immediate survival. Her son. The child borne from a cursed womb, the child she had conceived in a final act of desperation, to spare herself from Lucifer’s wrath. The child she had butchered — the worst, most horrific thing she had ever had to do, without contest. 

Just the thought of Adam had nearly brought Lilith to her knees since his death, over and over and over again — every minute of every day, grief threatened to consume her. Perhaps it was good, then, that the distractions were plentiful. Perhaps it was good that she had time to think, in the back of her mind, how she might bring him back.

Baron Samedi — who had revealed himself to Lilith in one of her most vulnerable moments, grieving and desperate and stripped of her power — had given her an invaluable gift: Adam’s spirit. To complete the resurrection, she simply needed a vessel, strong enough to bear the soul of Lucifer’s spawn, _her_ spawn, a child most certainly possessed of immense power.

It took her much longer than she hoped to locate. 

For weeks Lilith stole away from her duties in small increments, scouring witch’s alcoves across the globe for a suitable vessel. She would not kill a child. Perhaps she would have considered the option prior to her own conception and delivery — no, she _certainly_ would have considered it, and likely done it. But not now. Not after Adam. 

And then one day, in the middle of the night and close to collapsing from sheer exhaustion, she found what she was looking for.

A family of witches had perished in a fatal vehicular accident on the Moldovan-Romanian border — two young parents, one warlock and one witch… and a baby. A baby girl. The parents had died on impact, the baby… succumbing to smoke inhalation. No living relatives, the family either cursed or victims of extremely bad luck. Perhaps both, given the obvious power the parents held, evident even postmortem. 

A girl. A tiny girl.

_…Women should be in charge of everything._

_Adeline._

She told no one, ensuring she was completely alone in her quarters before even looking at the baby’s face, the most ephemeral of glances. She could not bear anything longer, beginning the ritual without hesitation — a taxing yet brief burst of magic. And then suddenly… her child was… alive.

And for only the third time in her life, Lilith fainted.

She finally had everything. Her power, her throne, and her child. The love she felt for the little beastie was… frightening. It was… divine.

And then the threats began.

The child’s power was obvious, magic evident despite how small she was. A child of Lucifer, an heir to the throne Lilith now occupied. A child **everyone** wanted contact with, control over.

A child Lilith was incapable of defending while ruling Hell — and one she was utterly unprepared to raise on her own.

For all of Lilith’s power, she did not know how to raise a child of the non-demonic variety, a fact she had done her best to ignore during her time at the Academy. There, the doting _assistance_ of countless young witches, most uninvited to her quarters yet arriving to ‘help’ with Adam nonetheless, had ensured he slept and ate and was properly attended to. That much she knew, despite her pride and ego — she could not have done it alone. But in Hell, despite the support of her advisors and many offers to assist with Adeline’s care, Lilith found herself falling back on old habits — trusting no one, and suspecting everyone of seeking to harm her and her child. Her daughter.

There were alternatives, options. Many considered… but only one clear path.

And so it was that one ordinary yet chilly afternoon in March, she landed on the porch of the Spellman Sisters’ Mortuary, sagacious and determined, Adeline bundled in her arms. 

And without hesitation, she rang the bell.


	2. Forty-Eight Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zelda is in a dark place.
> 
> tw: mention of animal death. not graphic.  
> tw: mentions of alcohol

Salem was missing.

He had begun to act strange in the weeks following Sabrina’s death, often spending days at a time in the woods. While it was not uncommon for a witch’s familiar to mourn in the wake of such a devastating event, Zelda was so uncharacteristically worried about the cat that Hilda took it upon herself to be sure he was still eating regularly in his absence. Each evening, she set out a dish of fresh tuna fish, and each morning found it mostly or entirely depleted. That seemed to placate Zelda, until the day came when the tuna fish went untouched overnight and Salem had yet to return to the mortuary.

There was no great science to what was going on; Hilda knew that Zelda was simply trying, in her way, to hold onto any part of their niece that she could. Every member of the Spellman family had lost Sabrina, but Zelda… Zelda was taking it hardest, a fact evident to all and very, very painful for Hilda to witness. 

Salem was missing, until he was not, and Hilda wished it possible to tell her sister anything at all except the truth. 

She climbed the stairs slow as molasses, stalling the inevitable without even realizing she was consciously doing so. No sign yet that morning of Zelda, and none of Vinegar Tom either, which meant that both were still sleeping soundly—-and that did make sense, for Hilda had found the ashtray in the sitting room practically overflowing and a nearly empty decanter of scotch beside it. A sight commonplace enough these days but no less sad or concerning than the very first time Zelda came down for breakfast mercilessly hungover and Hilda put two and two together. That was, of course, before Zelda stopped coming down for breakfast altogether. Her newspapers went unread and her coffee went cold and Hilda continued putting out both just the same, hoping someday soon things might return halfway to normal. 

…But she wasn’t counting on it. 

Her old bedroom, now solely belonging to her sister, was empty. This, too, was not out of the ordinary as of late. Hilda sighed, and glanced toward the door at the end of the hall. Sabrina’s room. Left untouched, unaltered since the teenager herself last occupied it except for the occasional late-night visit by her Aunt Zelda. 

At the door, Hilda tapped her knuckles just twice and called her sister’s name softly, knowing Zelda likely had a whopper of a headache. The only response came from Vinegar Tom, who whimpered low before the tic-tic-tic of his nails trotted across the floor. 

“Go out and do your business,” Hilda encouraged him, turning the doorknob just enough to let him slip past her. “Good boy, Tom.” 

The next low whimper came courtesy of Zelda. Lying smack in the middle of her late niece’s bed, atop the covers with only an afghan blanket for warmth, face buried in a pillow. 

Hilda breathed in deep, bracing herself for whatever lay ahead. She charged toward the window to pull back the curtains, forcing light into the room and in turn forcing her sister to greet the day. 

Zelda, as expected, let her displeasure be known. She turned her head, squinting just one bleary eye in the sun. “ _Must_ you do that?” 

“It’s after ten,” Hilda told her, “You’ll sleep straight ’til noon one of these days, and then you’ll be upset that I _didn’t_ come to wake you.” Without giving Zelda the chance for a proper retort, she plowed forward. “Vinegar Tom was whining to be let out, so I sent him on his way. I… ah, I have some unpleasant news, Zelds.” She sat on the edge of the bed, hands nervously folded in her lap. “Doctor Cee went out to get the papers this morning and on his way back up the drive, he cut through the cemetery and… he found poor Salem in a bad way. Brought him into the house and I did what I could for him, but he was already gone, for the most part.”

Zelda simply blinked. “You—-you can’t save him?”

“No, love. He passed peacefully, just a little while ago. Ambrose is making arrangements to—”

“Stop,” Zelda effectively cut her off. “I understand, Hilda.” She covered her face with both hands, taking a shaky breath indicative of oncoming tears. 

“Oh, now…” Hilda never felt so powerless as when she watched her sister cry. “You know it was to be expected, familiars rarely stay with us for long after…” All this time, and she still could not say it aloud. Not to Zelda. 

“ _Of course_ I know that,” Zelda practically snapped, finally sitting up, wiping at her eyes. “I thought as long as he was still here, there was a chance…” Her voice trailed off, the unsaid more than obvious. 

Hilda reached over to pat her sister’s arm, gently as she could. “I know, love.” She did. She had thought about it, too. Thought that perhaps Salem was sticking around until some way, somehow, Sabrina journeyed back to this earthly plane. A silly notion, but a hopeful one. “I can fix you some breakfast, if you want. Eggs and toast, or—”

“No thank you, sister.” Zelda’s tears were now dry. “I haven’t got time. I planned to be at the Academy an hour ago, I simply… forgot to set any sort of alarm.” 

She got to her feet, and Hilda hastened to follow suit, gathering the discarded afghan in her arms. _The Academy_? Zelda’s presence there had become more and more scarce as the days since losing Sabrina dragged on. No one questioned it, of course, for the entire coven understood what the Spellman family endured and continued to endure on a daily basis. The High Priestess was, certainly, allowed all the time she needed to take in order to grieve. Therefore this so-called “plan” was something of a surprise.

“It’s Sunday, Zelds,” Hilda thought it pertinent to remind her. Perhaps she had her days mixed up. 

“Yes, Hilda, I am well aware of that. I have work to do, and I would prefer a quiet day to do it.” 

Halfway down the hall en route to her own bedroom, Zelda seemed suddenly unsteady, so much so that when she struck out an arm in attempt to regain her balance against the wall she managed to knock a circular mirror nearly off its nail. Following closely behind her was Hilda, whose quick reflexes saved both her sister _and_ the mirror.

“You’ll be eating breakfast first, Zelda Spellman, and I won’t hear a word to the contrary.” She could give orders, too, when the need arose. “Come on, let’s get you into your own bed. I’ll bring up some coffee and aspirin.” Not exactly a surefire hangover cure, but it was a start. 

____________

Sabrina had been gone for forty-eight days. Forty-eight breakfasts with no Sabrina at the kitchen table, forty-eight nights without her quick footsteps up the stairs sneaking home past curfew, twenty-some days since her tribute statue was placed in the Academy’s main hall, countless times Salem had wandered the mortuary halls trilling endless meows.

How everyone else who lived in this house was simply going on with their lives, Zelda did not know and could not fathom.

Grief did not come with a set of instructions; there was no right or wrong way to mourn but after living nearly five centuries, she thought she ought to have some insight into the process. How to reconcile the fact that a seventeen-year-old girl who should not be gone from this earth, especially when her four-hundred-and-thirty-five-year-old aunt would give anything to have her back, _was_ indeed gone from this earth was not at all easy. The only thing Zelda found even remotely helpful was whiskey—-and when there was a shortage of that, gin—-because the more she drank the more she could easily forget, even if only temporarily. 

Forget that her niece, the closest thing she would ever have to a child of her own, had bled out under her hands, under her power. Forget that the first person to make her feel worthy of love and romance and sex in a very, very long time turned out to be an entity in the disguise of a woman who did not exist, only in Greendale to serve a purpose that had nothing to do with her. Forget that _before that_ , the last person with whom she was intimate and vulnerable had used her in the worst way—-and that she had wept about that treatment, about the abuse and the humiliation and violation of every part of her mind and body, to Marie. 

Marie, the woman who did not exist. 

Sabrina, the child who died as she watched, the child whose eulogy she gave. _Sabrina_. If only she could return to them for an hour, a day, a week… 

Forgetting was useless, ultimately, because come morning Zelda always remembered. Some days reality took a minute or two to sink in, some days it took longer than that, but without fail she was simply left with her sadness and more often than not, a miserable hangover.

Hilda’s promise of coffee and aspirin helped with the latter on that particular Sunday morning, even if Zelda was not keen on the toast and fruit accompanying those items. Her appetite had been sparse for weeks. She nibbled on the toast for appearance’s sake, and forced down a few grapefruit slices in order to avoid another lecture from Hilda about the importance of food—-granted, there had been only one thus far, but that was plenty. 

Vinegar Tom trotted into the room as his mistress was slipping on her shoes. 

“Fetch your leash,” Zelda told him, “We’re going to the Academy.” 

The dog gave a _woof_ of acknowledgement and headed back toward the stairs as Zelda took one last look in the mirror. Much as she hated to admit it, nearly a week had gone by since she last fixed herself up to leave the house. This malaise would one day pass, she knew, but until that day arrived… well, the Academy had remained standing without her this long, and would continue to do so. 

Downstairs, Hilda was chopping up a rather large chocolate bar for the purposes of her usual Sunday baking when the doorbell chimed. The mortuary did not often receive unexpected visitors—-not lately, anyhow. 

“I’ve got it, Zelds,” she called out, though that was a given. 

Vinegar Tom, patiently awaiting Zelda with his leash and collar in his mouth, suddenly stood as if on alert when Hilda passed by.

“It’s just the bell, silly.” She gave his head a gentle pat, but that did not seem to calm him a bit. His tail swung slowly back and forth, hardly its usual overexcited wag. He moved to stand just behind her legs when she opened the door to…

Make that _two_ unexpected visitors.

Lilith, and a tiny bundle in her arms.

Very unexpected, indeed.


	3. Divine Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilith proposes a mutually beneficial bargain.

“L-Lilith…?”

It was Hilda who opened the door. Hilda, no doubt confused, wearing a stained apron, dusting of flour on her arms, a small beagle hiding behind her. 

The Queen of Hell smiled politely, silently greeting the canine familiar before meeting Hilda’s eyes. She had not seen the witch since that heavy, dark day in the family cemetery, just yards from where they now stood. “May I... come in?”

“I, ah… Yeah, I mean, yes, of course, please do… come in.” _Get it together, Hildegard._ Who could blame her for sputtering and stuttering, at a time like this? Zelda. That was who. “Are you---I mean, is everything alright? With you, and… ah, Hell, and… little Adam?” 

_Adeline_ , Lilith nearly said, managing to hold her tongue as she crossed the threshold into the mortuary. Hilda tried to peek at the bundle clutched to her chest, but as before, Lilith did not allow it. 

“I need to speak with you, and your… sister. She’s here, isn’t she?” An unnecessary question; Lilith had sensed Zelda’s magic -- more volatile than usual -- even before she rang the bell.

Hilda nodded. Thank Hecate Zelda had not yet left, although in hindsight, perhaps that would have been best. If it had been any morning other than this one… 

“Make yourself right at home,” she ushered their guest into the sitting room, “I’ll pop upstairs and get her.” 

Lilith chose to stand, listening to Hilda’s footsteps on the stairs and glancing around a room she had previously visited under very different circumstances. Asleep, Adeline whimpered in her arms, squirming slightly -- she would not wake, not until Lilith lifted the spell cast to keep the baby girl from interrupting a conversation that could, for the near-term at least, determine her fate. 

Footsteps on the stairs again -- two pairs. Lilith took a deep breath, determined not to waver. 

Zelda strode in ahead of her sister, determined to get this impromptu meeting over and done with as soon as possible. 

“Lilith,” she said by way of greeting, forcing the most neutral tone she could muster. _Lilith and the baby_ , Hilda had wisely informed her, for without the warning she would have lost all semblance of composure upon seeing that tiny swaddled bundle in the other woman’s arms. Even now, standing face to face with someone other than a family member for the first time in weeks, Zelda felt that her carefully constructed emotional balance was hanging by a rather delicate thread. She would prefer it not to come undone. Her hands were already trembling, head still pounding away regardless of the coffee-aspirin combo. “Sit, please. Hilda tells me you’ve something to discuss with us both?”

Lilith watched Zelda through narrowed eyes, the witch’s magic and energy shifting and swirling as they sat. There was something… different about her, something… fragile. The small dog entered quietly, curling up by Zelda’s feet. Protective. Lilith glanced from Zelda to Hilda and back again, deciding it would be best to start with a touch of empathy, to acknowledge the past in order to lay the groundwork for her request-- “I’m sorry about Sabrina.”

“Thank you,” said Zelda, following a few seconds of heavy, awkward silence, during which Hilda wondered if she should speak up instead. 

The day of Sabrina’s funeral, as Zelda delivered that devastating but beautiful eulogy, Hilda noticed a telltale shock of raven-dark hair in the distance. She had not told Zelda of Lilith’s apparent presence, but perhaps she should have. 

“Surely that can’t be the reason you’re here?” Zelda pressed on. She did not intend to sound callous, but it was rather obvious that Lilith must have a greater motive at play. If all she wished to do was express her sympathy regarding Sabrina’s death, she could have done so in many ways that did not involve a surprise visit with her child in tow.

“Well. Much has happened.” Lilith shifted in her seat, holding Adeline close. “I’ve come to you with a proposal.”

The Spellman sisters exchanged a brief sidelong glance. 

“Very well,” said Zelda, “A proposal of what sort?”

Well, there was no prolonging it any further. “I can bring Sabrina back,” Lilith said calmly, adding before the witches could react, “In exchange for… a rather large favor.”

Zelda’s heart plummeted straight down to the pit of her belly. Acting on instinct, Hilda gently placed her hand over the top of her sister’s. 

“Anything.” That word fell from Zelda’s lips before she could hold it back, keep it caged behind her teeth where it certainly belonged. Of course she could not promise _anything_ to Lilith, of all people, but… oh, Goddess willing, to have Sabrina back…

Lilith arched an eyebrow, studying Zelda -- a glimmer of hope flickered in green eyes, her entire body tense. 

“When you say _bring her back_ ,” Hilda ventured, seeking clarification, “You do mean in… in the natural way, yeah? Our Sabrina, whole and alive and well, no… ah, worry over any sort of malfunction---”

“Quiet, Hilda,” Zelda was quick to shush, swatting at her hand. “Let Lilith explain herself.”

Lilith took a breath, attempting a smile. “There will be no… malfunctions. What I require in return is… somewhat delicate, requiring the highest level of discretion.” Unable to sit still any longer, she rose, clutching Adeline to her chest as she turned toward the fire, away from the witches’ stares. “Several months ago Lucifer was stripped of his power and banished to wander the mortal realm, indefinitely. I am Queen, and my child is viewed by far too many in the court and the various realms as a… threat.” She turned back to the sisters, fighting down emotion and staring directly at Zelda. It was time. “I cannot raise her there, and I cannot--” Lilith swallowed, voice catching in her throat. “I would do anything to protect her. Anything _except_ abdicate the throne I spent millennia working to obtain. So I am… requesting your assistance.”

An overwhelming amount of information to digest, much of it confusing to both Zelda and Hilda.

Zelda, as usual, spoke first. She held Lilith’s gaze, brow furrowed. “I… don’t believe I follow. Lucifer, _banished_ \---by whom? And your child, Lilith---the child _we_ delivered was a baby boy.”

Two relevant things sprung to Hilda’s mind, and she interjected: “Ambrose mentioned a shift in the realms a while back, something to do with Hell and… I suppose that could have been the result of Lucifer having been given the old heave-ho, but---Zelda is right, last we knew you had a… a bouncing little bundle of… Adam.” She couldn’t bring herself to say out loud that she remembered specifically worrying for Adam’s well-being, what seemed now to have been a lifetime ago at the Academy. What with the way Lilith would not let others around him, and how quiet the infant had become at only a few days of age… it had not sat right with her then, just as it did not sit right with her now. 

Lilith, who did not enjoy spending time thinking about Adam’s… farewell nor Lucifer’s final betrayal any more than absolutely necessary after nearly drowning in her grief, had hoped to skip over… well, most of the story, if she was honest. Even so, she steeled herself, nodding slowly. “Banished by me,” Lilith answered first, meeting Zelda’s eyes, taste of Lucifer’s blood on her tongue. “And yes, you delivered a boy. But then Lucifer arrived, and I had no choice…” She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

“I shouldn’t have let him in to see you,” said Hilda, very quietly. Her worst suspicions about that poor baby were now confirmed, although that did not make the present situation much clearer.

“It was my decision to face him,” Lilith said firmly, though not an hour had gone by in those first few weeks following that dark, suffocating night in which she had not questioned that decision. She swallowed, looking from Hilda back to Zelda.

Zelda found herself fighting to hold back a sudden flood of emotion brought on simply by the tiny waver in the demon queen’s voice. “You had no choice but to…” She let the unsaid hang in the air, and the ever-so-slight nod of Lilith’s head told her they were on the same page. “And so you brought him back, except…” 

“...In a different body.” Lilith looked down at Adeline, moving her wrap so that she could see the baby’s soft, peaceful face. “Killed in an automobile accident, she and her parents. Witches, all of them.” 

A tuft of dark hair was now visible from Zelda’s vantage point on the sofa, and before she fully realized what she was doing, she was on her feet to get a better look at the babe in Lilith’s arms. Lilith watched her approach, fighting her instinct to pull Adeline closer, allowing Zelda to look upon her baby’s face. The witch smelled of tobacco and jasmine, Lilith realized as she waited, a pleasant distraction from the humiliation and shame of having to confess the truth of what had occurred, of having to bargain yet again for help.

“She’s precious,” Zelda whispered, for the child was asleep. “May I…?” 

“Yes.” Lilith handed over the bundle, watching Zelda’s every movement.

Hilda remained seated, holding her breath. The cure for almost anything that troubled her sister was simple: put a baby in front of her and poof, troubles be gone. But this was not a permanent solution, nor was the “assistance” Lilith sought clearly spelled out. 

“Who in their right mind would ever want to hurt you, sweet little lamb?” Zelda was cooing to the babe, and smiling a genuine smile for the first time in a very, very long while. She looked up at Lilith. “What have you decided to call her?”

“Adeline.” Lilith managed a small smile, Zelda’s unfiltered joy impossible to fully resist.

Heartstrings tugged every which way, Hilda knew she needed to step in, if only for her sister’s sake. She rose, peeking at the child over Zelda’s shoulder. “She is lovely, Lilith, truly---but, sorry, you said you could give us back our Sabrina, in exchange for… what, exactly?”

Lilith’s eyes flicked away to a distant spot on the far wall. After a long moment she turned, waiting for Zelda to look up before addressing that lingering question, “She needs a safe place. You are… trusted witches, fortified by a strong coven.” A pause, Lilith struggling to add, “She needs to… stay here, under your care whenever I am… absent.”

Their eyes were locked, Zelda’s green to Lilith’s blue, as the witch let the weight of those words truly sink in. Her heart was beating too quickly, adrenaline pumping fast. “Dare I say that I… I am honored, Lilith,” she managed to eke out, voice breaking somewhere in the middle. When her knees threatened to buckle, she quickly handed the babe back to her mother, Lilith accepting Adeline without a word.

“Sit down, Zelds.” Hilda already had hold of her sister’s shoulders, and guided her back to the loveseat before turning to look at Lilith once more.

“I take it you… agree?” Lilith prompted, studying Zelda on the couch, noting her fractured composure. Without speaking she woke Adeline, the baby squirming in her arms, looking up at her with a somewhat bewildered expression. Lilith smiled, rocking her gently.

Before Hilda could interject, Zelda nodded. “I accept,” she said, once again looking Lilith square in the eye. 

It was now or never, Hilda knew. If Zelda was angry with her, then so be it, but she could not sit by and allow her sister to be hurt if she herself could help it. “Lilith, will you… kindly excuse the two of us, please?”

The withering glance Zelda shot her sister’s way was not at all pleasant, yet Hilda did not back down. Lilith gave a single nod, situating herself in one of the high-backed chairs near the fireplace and watching as Hilda took Zelda by the arm and pulled her along toward the kitchen. 

“What in the name of Hecate do you think you’re doing?” Zelda yanked herself free once they crossed the threshold, only to feel unsteady just as she had a few minutes before. She took her usual seat at the table, staring Hilda down with all her might. 

“What do you think _you_ are doing?” As soon as those uncharacteristic words left her lips in an even more uncharacteristic tone, Hilda wished she could take them back. “We need to discuss this, is all I…” She sighed, sinking into her own seat. “...all I meant.” 

“And what, exactly, is left to be discussed? She is offering to return to us _Sabrina_ , Hilda, have you lost your damn mind?”

Hilda chewed on her bottom lip. “I understand that, but the… the other bit, the bit about the baby. Are you... ” There was no good way to say this. “Are you sure you’re up to that? And before you scoff at me---just _think_ about it, Zelds, please.”

Zelda scoffed just the same. “I was prepared to raise Leticia.” It had been a very long time since she had spoken that name aloud. “Whatever you’re concerned about is... ” She waved her hand, a dismissive gesture. “...Temporary. That’s all it is, and all it has ever been. You know that. You know that the second Sabrina walks through that door---”

“You’ll stop drinking yourself nearly into oblivion every night?” Hilda’s voice was small, the words just barely audible. Still, she held her ground, looking her sister in the eyes. 

No punches pulled there. Zelda’s mouth quivered, chin wobbled in that telltale way. She blinked away from Hilda’s gaze, staring across the room at absolutely nothing. “I will be caring for an infant, Hilda. Between that and my work at the Academy, _plus_ continuing to serve as High Priestess of this coven, I certainly will not have time for such… frivolous, indulgent behavior.” 

And that was that on that. 

Hilda knew when to relent, even though she still harbored worries over the finer details of whatever this arrangement would entail. “Good,” she mumbled, gazing down at the table, tracing the wood grain patterns in her mind. “So it’s… set, then?”

“Absolutely.” Zelda stood, smoothed her skirt, and started back toward the living room. “Let us not keep Lilith waiting, sister.” 

Creaky floorboards announced the witches’ return, Lilith taking a breath and saying a silent _thank you_ to Adeline for finishing her breastfeeding with trademark haste. The baby girl was content, burbling quietly in her arms as Zelda strode into the room with Hilda on her heels, Lilith rising in preparation for a… final answer. 

“Apologies for that interruption. My sister felt it pertinent to discuss some finer details of this arrangement---and I believe that is a conversation to be held between you and I, if we are to move forward with your daughter in my care.” Zelda needed to say more, and she did not intend to mince her words. She remained standing, though she did not quite know how. Once again her heart was beating overtime and her hands felt restless with nerves. She went on, “As for Sabrina, I have but one set of conditions that must be met. I need you to promise me, Lilith, that there is no longer a place for Sabrina in Hell. That you will not summon her there for any reason, _ever_ , for the rest of her natural life. That she will be freed of any and all duties as Lucifer’s heir, and that she may live without constraints, without… a price on her head, or on her soul. Can you do that?”

Having anticipated the question, Lilith replied without hesitation, “Yes. Sabrina will remain firmly in this realm, unbothered by her father and free to live her life unburdened by any… infernal obligations. You have my word.” She did not feel a need to add the obvious -- that had it been up to her, such an arrangement would have been in place from the beginning. “Do we have a deal?”

Zelda was more than satisfied. “We do. And when can we expect Sabrina home?”  
Lilith struggled to suppress a sigh of absolute relief. _Safe_. Her daughter would be safe. “Good. As for Sabrina -- with Adeline as my witness, I will perform the resurrection momentarily. Unless you would… prefer I wait?”

“No,” said Zelda immediately, “No, today---now---” 

“I believe what my sister is trying to say,” interjected Hilda, with a wide grin, “Is that _momentarily_ is perfect. We’d have had her back yesterday if we could have.” 

As expected. Lilith just smiled, heading toward the door before anyone could change their mind. 

Zelda simply beamed, waiting until they were alone before clutching Hilda’s hands tight in hers. “Oh, Hildie, can you believe it? I’ll go up and light a candle in her room, I’ll draw her a nice bath, and you can fix up---”

“A big batch of blueberry pancakes,” Hilda squeezed her sister’s hands, “And I’ll call down to Ambrose and get Doctor Cee on the phone at the shop.”

“Yes, and after that, call Rosalind and Theo and Harvey and---we must get word to Nicholas, as well.” Nearly lightheaded with excitement, Zelda did something truly out of the ordinary: she embraced her sister, suddenly and without warning. “I knew she would return to us, one day. I knew it.” 

Exactly six minutes later, after the candle was lit and the aroma of fresh pancakes in the making permeated the house, Zelda stepped out the front door and watched from the porch as not one but two figures made their way up from the cemetery. Lilith, with the baby in her arms, and beside her, Sabrina. Unable to help herself, Zelda hurried down the rickety wooden stairs, willing her heels to hold up in the gravel and dirt. Sabrina, too, broke into a run---albeit much faster than her aunt---and it was all Zelda could do to open her arms and wait.


	4. The Moonstone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After making good on her promise to the Spellman family, Lilith works with Zelda to establish details regarding baby Adeline's care.

Sabrina crashed full-force into her aunt, hugging Zelda just as tightly as Zelda was hugging her. Her tears soaked into Zelda’s blouse and Zelda’s tears fell into her hair, and even though the late February air was decidedly chilly, neither of them wanted to let the other go in order to head inside. 

“It’s really you,” Zelda sobbed, “My sweet girl.”

Years had gone by since the last time Sabrina could remember her aunt calling her that. Zelda said it often when she was small; Sabrina had not realized how much she missed it. She tried to take in everything about Zelda that she could---her signature perfume mixed with the ever-present faint scent of tobacco, the sound of her voice, the feeling of Zelda’s arms around her and her cheek against Zelda’s silk blouse---all those things she once took for granted before… before the Void, before the Hereafter. 

Never again. 

“I missed you so much,” Sabrina said through tears, “ _So much_ , Aunt Zee…”

Zelda could only keep holding onto her. Had circumstances been different, she would not have let Sabrina out of her sight for… days, perhaps, until the world felt right once more. But as it was, that could not be. Life marched on, and there was no better proof of that than baby Adeline, who was beginning to stir in her mother’s arms. 

Over Sabrina’s blonde head, Zelda met Lilith’s eyes and while she did not speak a thank-you, her expression communicated exactly that, and much more. Lilith returned the look with a polite smile, approaching slowly, giving them space.

“We’ll all be chilled to the bone if we aren’t careful,” was what Zelda said aloud as she reluctantly let Sabrina go and blinked several times to dry her tears. “Your Aunt Hilda is making your favorite breakfast, and I can draw you a bath so that you’ll feel more yourself---whichever you want first, simply say the word.”

Sabrina grinned. “Pancakes first. Always pancakes first.” 

Aunt and niece walked arm in arm back up to the house, Lilith and the babe trailing behind. Vinegar Tom greeted them just inside, but Sabrina beelined straight for her Aunt Hilda. 

Zelda hung back, watching their reunion with a fresh round of tears. Ambrose bounded up from the basement, skidded into the kitchen and waited for his turn to welcome back his cousin. After hugs and sentiment were distributed in equal measure, Sabrina was brought up to speed on the events of the last few months, the finer details of Lilith’s… proposed arrangement concerning her resurrection and Adeline’s care deliberately left out. There would be time for that later, Zelda knew.

As Hilda moved Sabrina’s licked-clean plate into the sink, Zelda turned to Lilith -- or rather, the space where Lilith had been standing just minutes before. The spot beside the door was empty, soft cries of a baby heard down the hall.

“Is she all right?” Zelda inquired, keeping a respectful distance in the doorway of the bathroom, where Lilith was changing Adeline’s diaper. 

“Fine,” Lilith replied, not looking up as she finished buttoning the cloth diaper, one of a seemingly endless set provided by one of her now-closest allies in Hell. Adeline was still crying -- but for what, Lilith was unsure.

The baby needed to be wrapped up, Zelda thought, but for the moment she refrained from offering that advice. This transition would not be an easy one for Lilith, that much was clear. She did not wish to add to that stress. The memory of dropping off Leticia to Desmelda’s cottage in the woods was forever burned into her head, and no matter how much it hurt, she could not imagine herself in Lilith’s position, nor hazard a guess at how the other woman was feeling just now. 

Instead, she brought up another pertinent matter. “Perhaps she’ll settle down if we return to the sitting room---when Sabrina was a baby, she loved to be near the fireplace. I don’t know if it was the radiating warmth or the crackling of the wood, but it always seemed to placate her.”

Lilith looked up, then, irritation softening at the way Zelda was gazing at her daughter. “Yes, well… so does Adeline.” Every night she sang to the baby by the fire in her quarters -- every night until _tonight_ , when she would return to Hell empty-handed. Lilith blinked several times, determined to keep her eyes dry. “I should wrap her,” she murmured, mostly to herself, gathering the blanket and wrapping Adeline up just as Hilda had shown her, one night at the Academy before everything had gone terribly, horribly wrong.

Zelda smiled, aiming to put Lilith at ease. “That’s good to know.” She watched Lilith swaddle the baby, again reserving her own input---she would have swaddled Adeline a bit tighter, maybe, just for comfort’s sake. 

They retreated to the sitting room, where the witch stoked the fire and put another log on. Sparks popped and sizzled and sure enough, the baby’s cries became soft, happy little coos. 

“What else does Adeline seem to enjoy?” asked Zelda, figuring a neutral question such as that was as good a place as any to jump into this very necessary conversation. “And to the contrary, does she have any particular aversions I should know about?”

Lilith sank into a chair, smiling down at Adeline’s calm, finally-content face. “She likes magic, any kind.” The Hell queen raised her head, watching Zelda settle into a chair identical to hers. “She seems to… prefer dark spaces, flame-lit, and she…” Lilith swallowed, “...likes when I sing to her. But strongly dislikes screaming, of any sort.” She took a slow, even breath, trying not to think too much about where this conversation was heading, trying to memorize the feeling of Adeline in her arms.

“No screaming. Understood.” Zelda continued to tread lightly. “Does she sleep through the night just yet?”

“At times, yes. This house is… more conducive to sleeping, I would imagine.” Lilith glanced around the room, marveling at the… quiet, the absence of noise and demonic rumbling she always found herself enjoying while away from Hell. She looked back at Zelda. “I will do everything in my power to prevent my enemies from ever finding you, here. But you must have a convincing alias for Adeline, protect her identity every time you leave this property. No exceptions.”

“Of course,” Zelda was quick to assure, “There is no reason I can’t simply present her as the suddenly orphaned child of an unfortunately deceased relative. No one within the coven will question that. And please, do rest assured that I intend to keep her in my own care at all times. She will accompany me to the Academy, and if ever there arises the need for someone other than myself to keep watch over her, I will entrust her only to Hilda. Never anyone else.”

“Good,” Lilith replied quietly, averting her gaze. Focusing on Adeline’s warmth and presence in her arms was no longer… quite so comforting, Lilith struggling to forgive herself for what amounted to abandoning her child in favor of the preservation of power. She swallowed, trying to remind herself that such thoughts and feelings were expected, that she had already grappled with a wealth of reservations and made peace with her decision. Even so, she could not stop herself from asking, unprompted, “What would you do, Zelda Spellman? If our roles were… reversed.”

Zelda did not have to hesitate before answering. “Exactly the same. I would do exactly what you are doing, and I can guarantee that I would not be nearly so put-together while doing it.” The events of the day having weakened her resistance to emotion, she leaned forward in her chair and reached out to lay a hand on the demon queen’s knee, Lilith’s eyes meeting hers. “Do not feel rushed to leave, Lilith. You may take all the time you need, and---if you wish, please, join us for supper. Hilda has invited Sabrina’s friends, and I’m sure Sabrina will be going to fetch Nicholas, too. You can walk me through Adeline’s nighttime routine.”

It was a genuine offer, one that Lilith had not anticipated. And Zelda’s hand on her knee… rather than recoil at the witch’s touch, Lilith found herself locking onto her magic, her energy. Motherhood had changed her; surely that was the only explanation. 

“No, I-- I really must be going. My absence has likely been… conspicuous; I mustn't prolong it.” She brushed a fingertip over Adeline’s nose, smiling sadly down at the baby. “I bathe her every night, feed her, sing to her. You will have to find a… suitable formula, in my absence. She likes being held, but often takes a very long time falling asleep.” Lilith paused, once again meeting Zelda’s eyes but quickly looking away, tears threatening. “As do I,” she added quietly. Without Adeline, she would likely sleep hardly at all. Lilith swallowed hard, straightening in her chair. “I have not yet determined how often I will be able to… visit. We will need a secure method of communication.”

Settled back in her seat, Zelda listened intently. Formula would not be an issue; she had, of course, already thought of that and she believed there was still some leftover from Leticia’s brief time in her care. As for communication… “Hilda and I have used mirrors, in the past, to talk to one another when apart. I suppose any other enchanted object could work in its place---a piece of jewelry, for instance.”

_Mirrors._ How long ago it seemed that Lilith had used the very same to watch Sabrina, to spy on the Spellmans in this very house. Effective -- but insecure. “If you require my presence, you may summon me by speaking my name aloud; I will hear you. If you wish to simply speak to me, and vice versa, a piece of jewelry will do just fine. Something worn, something unlikely to be lost or stolen -- hidden, beneath clothing.” 

Zelda excused herself to seek a suitable talisman---make that _two_. Her jewelry cabinet did not disappoint; the pieces that immediately sprung to mind were none too difficult to locate. For herself, a teardrop-shaped, pinkish moonstone on a long, thin golden chain. For Lilith, the same stone with a slightly blue hue, pressed into a coin-shaped pendant, on an equally long chain of precious silver. The moonstone was not chosen at random, for the gem was also known as ‘hecatolite,’ its properties heavy in feminine energy and promotive of clairvoyance. It had been years since Zelda studied stones, but that particular one always stuck with her. Perhaps there was a reason, and that reason was little Adeline.

“I hope you’ll find this aesthetically appealing as well as functional for our purposes,” she said when she presented Lilith with the necklace, “We should bind them to one another, to prevent misuse by others.”

Never one to wear much jewelry, Lilith studied the necklace carefully, the stone almost shimmering in the firelight. “This will do fine,” she replied, reaching out for Zelda’s hand. Adeline burbled happily, as if anticipating what came next. “Take my hand. I will enchant them so they are bound to each other and to us, exclusively.”

Zelda smiled down at the baby, whose sweet little coo had not gone unnoticed. She slipped the pendant around her neck first, then put her hand in Lilith’s and realized the last time---the _only_ time---they had joined hands, Lilith was giving birth. What a strange, difficult yet rewarding day that had been. This day was not dissimilar, childbirth aside. 

“I’m ready,” she said, clutching the stone tight in her free hand.

Lilith lowered Adeline to rest in her lap, freeing her other hand to clutch the stone as Zelda had. The witch’s hand felt warm, soft in hers, their energy mingling. She shut her eyes, executing the layered enchantment without speaking a word, connecting with Zelda’s magic just once to ensure the bond was strong. 

The air seemed to crackle as she pulled away, Adeline giggling with approval as Lilith picked her up once more. “There. If you wish to speak to me, hold the stone and speak my name. I will hear your call and feel the stone grow warm -- when I do the same, the connection will activate.” Lilith looped the necklace around her neck, the stone disappearing beneath her jacket.

“Thank you,” was all Zelda could manage at the moment, for she felt temporarily stunned by the sheer force of power behind Lilith’s magic. It had hit like a white-hot jolt to her veins, and the feeling had yet to fully dissipate. She sank back into her seat, breathing in deep. What came next would not be easy. “Shall I… give you some time alone with her?”

The flood of emotion that gentle question triggered was impossible to fully contain, Lilith nearly choking on her breath as she looked down at Adeline. When she might see the baby girl again remained unknown, the uncertainty of the situation almost suffocating -- and yet she did not trust herself alone with Adeline, for it was all too possible that she might lose her resolve and teleport them both straight back to Hell. 

And so instead Lilith simply lifted Adeline up, knowing Zelda was watching as she hugged her tight to her chest, unstoppable tears escaping down her cheeks and soaking into the blanket. 

“Goodbye beastie,” she murmured, kissing her forehead and silently communicating everything she could not bring herself to say in front of Zelda. _I love you, little one, you will be safe here. I love you and will give my life to protect you. Be strong, and never let anyone hurt you._

Sniffing, Lilith brushed the tears from her cheeks and stood, handing Adeline over to Zelda, fighting with everything she had to keep from sobbing as the baby left her grasp. “Be good to her,” she managed to say, addressing them both before stepping back, Adeline beginning to whimper in Zelda’s arms. 

“I will.” Zelda blinked back tears of her own. “And please, Lilith, do not ever hesitate if you wish to check in on her. I won’t let her forget who her mother is. I can promise you that.” Adeline continued to fuss while Zelda rocked her, gently, back and forth. “Shh, little lamb, you’re all right…” 

Lilith’s chest ached, head pounding from fighting back emotion, memories of Adam’s final moments surfacing unbidden. This was not the same, she knew -- Zelda would give Adeline the best possible care, not only protecting her but nurturing her as she would her own. That much was obvious, just by glancing at the witch, by watching her interact with the baby. But the comparison remained, the farewell threatening to break Lilith once more. 

“Thank you. You will… hear from me, before I return,” she said, managing to keep her voice from wavering as she met Zelda’s eyes one final time. 

And without another word, she was gone.


	5. Witching Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: mention of implied rape/non-con (past)
> 
> Lilith pays a visit to Zelda and Adeline.

Hours passed, days. Time blurred and shifted, a minute unending, a week gone in the blink of an eye. An ache settled deep in Lilith’s chest, in her bones, her blood. A void, dulling and muting everything around her. The throne had grown uncomfortable, a sharp reminder of all she had sacrificed for its seat. What was the meaning of it all, the purpose? 

A rumor spread like wildfire throughout the circles of Hell -- a rumor started by Lilith’s own tongue, a purposeful diversion, misdirection. _The baby is being cared for in a deep, dark corner of the infernal realm._ Let them all turn on each other, she thought. Let suspicion fester. Anything to keep attention away from the mortal realm, away from Greendale. 

Day after day the moonstone seemed to grow heavier on Lilith’s chest, its presence comforting yet taunting, tempting her -- a portal to her daughter, a reminder of all she had forsaken. 

A fortnight had passed before she allowed herself the indulgence of asking after Adeline. 

It was nearly the witching hour in Greendale when she swept and sealed her quarters, settling cross-legged on the floor before the fire and slowly withdrawing the stone, lifting the thin chain up and out from beneath her dressing gown. She held it up, studying it in the flickering light. 

Her fingers closed around the pendant, eyes closing as she centered herself. And then she spoke aloud the name she had resisted speaking for what seemed an eternity--

“Zelda.”

A realm away, the corresponding stone around Zelda’s neck grew warm as that call came through. The witch closed the book open on her lap, and glanced toward the bassinet where baby Adeline was soundly sleeping. She had held off in contacting Lilith; she wanted to allow the other woman the space and time she needed, knowing that she would make use of the moonstone when she was ready.

“Lilith.” Zelda’s voice was low, hushed so as not to wake the baby, and as soon as she spoke the moonstone seemed to take on an otherworldly glow in the palm of her hand. 

A feeling not dissimilar to the shock of Lilith’s power electrified her veins, the spark of their energies melding and mingling to create the necessary connection for communication. Zelda relished it. She hesitated to say more, mindful of letting Lilith lead the conversation. 

For a moment Lilith could not speak, weeks of gnawing emptiness suddenly giving way to the warmth of connection with another -- another witch, Adeline’s… guardian. She clutched the glowing stone, gazing into the flames. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” Zelda laughed, softly, “I’m something of a night owl.” 

“Good to know.” Lilith took a breath, trying not to sound rushed as she asked quietly, “How is she?”

“She is absolutely fine. Sleeping, at present. It took a few days of trial and error, but we seem to have worked out a suitable routine.” Softening her voice even more, she asked, “How are _you_?”

Fine. Adeline was fine. Lilith released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “I miss her,” she murmured without hesitation, words spilling from her lips before she could pull them back. “Perhaps I could… come see her, soon.”

“Of course.” Zelda ran her thumb over the smooth surface of the moonstone. Lilith’s pain was evident in the tone with which she spoke, and two weeks was more than enough time away from one’s child. “I see no reason you could not do that right now, if you wish. The rest of the house is asleep---I’m always the last to bed down for the night.”

A visit. In those first few days after leaving Greendale, seeing Adeline again had been all Lilith thought about, thoughts so intrusive that she had decided, one night in the worst of her grief, to set an unwritten schedule. Visits once a month had seemed… reasonable, not too frequent so as to arise suspicion but frequent enough to provide a rhythm and a set of milestones, rough timestamps to look forward to. But now that Zelda had proposed an… impromptu reunion, in the middle of the night with her quarters sealed, Lilith saw no reason to refuse. 

“Alright. I will arrive in the cemetery.” And with that she dropped the stone, severing the connection.

The first use of her complex, hexagonal teleportation scheme -- designed to cover and obscure her tracks should anyone notice her absence and choose to follow her beyond the infernal realm -- proved successful. The cemetery, with its unusual magic and presence of the dead, provided an ideal termination point, excluding the Spellman mortuary itself from her trail. 

Lilith materialized under a waning moon just beside a turtle’s grave, the air cold and smelling of earth, grass soft beneath her feet. As before, she wasted no time in approaching the mortuary, climbing the stairs and hoping Zelda would sense her presence, rendering a knock or a bell unnecessary. 

Adeline woke at precisely the second her mother set foot on the porch. Zelda lifted her, murmured a promise of food in due time, and carried the babe downstairs to greet Lilith. 

“She knew you were here,” said the witch, smiling down at the bundle in her arms, “It’s almost time for her midnight feeding, if you would like to do the honors?” She wasted no time in giving Adeline over. “I’ll warm her bottle in the kitchen. I’ve already got the water on.”

Lilith stepped over the threshold and gathered Adeline into her arms, nearly overcome with emotion at her warmth, her energy, her smell. “Adeline, my darling,” she murmured, hugging her close. _I missed you, oh I missed you._ Adeline seemed happy to see her -- or perhaps Lilith was simply seeing what she wished to. Nuzzling her, she followed Zelda into the kitchen.

“Is she… settling in alright?” Lilith asked, watching Zelda prepare Adeline’s bottle. Her breasts ached slightly as she held the baby girl, as if her body were punishing her for magically terminating lactation. 

“Indeed she is, now that we’ve agreed upon when it is appropriate to eat and when it is appropriate to sleep.” The pot on the stove reached a gentle boil, and Zelda used a pair of tongs to dip the baby’s bottle inside in order to warm the formula. “She has joined me at the Academy every day this week, and she has never been anything other than perfectly behaved. She’s quite the happy little thing.” She lifted the bottle, dried it with a dish towel and squeezed some of the milky mixture onto her wrist to gauge the temperature. “Here we are.” Keeping the bottle wrapped up in the towel, she passed it over to Lilith and took her usual seat at the table. 

Lilith could not help but smile at that report, accepting the bottle from the witch and settling into a chair to feed Adeline. “Thank you.” The baby latched onto the bottle immediately, eating with haste as always. Lilith looked up as Adeline ate, locking eyes with Zelda for the first time that evening. “And how is Sabrina?”

“Dare I say she is… thriving, as far as I can tell. Over the moon to be reunited with her friends, with Nicholas, and free to simply be seventeen years old, without a care in the world. And it goes without saying that my sister and I are over the moon _for_ her.” She meant that; she had no desire to push her niece one way or the other, after all their small family had endured. So long as Sabrina was well and happy---and assuming, of course, that she did not abandon her witch-hood in its entirety---then Zelda wished only for her to live life as she pleased. 

The corners of Lilith’s mouth twitched -- a hint of a smile. Zelda seemed… genuinely happy, lighter. She shifted, looking lovingly back at Adeline and wishing she could stop time, frame this moment with her daughter. Her daughter, Sabrina’s… half-sister, being raised by the same witch who raised her ephemeral rival. And then, a murmured question that had been lingering ever since the witch sitting across from her had saved her life, that traumatic day of Adam’s sudden birth -- “Have you ever wanted children, Zelda?” 

Zelda blinked, caught somewhat by surprise. Her jaw tensed of its own accord; she tried to keep her expression neutral as possible. The truth was that no one had asked that question in a long, long time, and therefore she had forgotten the feeling brought on when someone did. 

That question made her feel empty and cold in a way that only a woman unable to successfully bear a child could feel.

“Yes.” Her voice was lower than usual, sounding syrupy and thick. “Very much.”

Vinegar Tom padded over just then, having sensed the shift in his mistress’s mood. He yawned, for only minutes ago he had been dozing in his small bed in the corner, and laid on the floor, his head resting atop Zelda’s left foot inside her slipper.

Lilith knew better. Over the centuries she had never once asked another woman or witch such an invasive, careless question -- she knew first-hand the pain of infertility, of… loss. Why she had asked such a thing of Zelda here and now… well. She had been lost in her own memories, her own joy gazing down at Adeline’s face. Surely that was the only explanation. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, eyes shimmering as she looked at Zelda. “I should never have asked.” She swallowed, pulling the bottle away as Adeline finished eating, raising her to her shoulder. And then, because she felt as if she owed Zelda something more, “Lucifer tried and failed to impregnate me many times over the millennia. Before Adeline I’d… lost more children than I care to remember.” She paused, remembering. “And I would have lost one more, had it not been for you.” Her voice was quiet, almost gravelly. 

_Millennia_. Centuries paled in comparison to millennia, and Zelda did not envy Lilith that. Sitting with her own losses for the past couple hundred years was plenty. As for that bit of information about Lucifer… knowing the Dark Lord as she did now, that was unfortunately not surprising. She had often wondered about the circumstances surrounding the conception of Lilith’s child. 

“He had no right to do that to you.” She had no doubt in her mind that Lilith was aware of that, but perhaps hearing it said might do her some good. “Whether you wished to become a mother or not, that… that decision should be yours, and yours alone.”

“Thank you.” Adeline burped, and Lilith patted her back. Something in Zelda’s voice told her that they likely had… more in common than she realized, a thought she chose to file away should the subject ever arise again.

“ _She_ was… my decision. So.” 

It did not take long for Zelda to connect the dots as to _why_. “You sought asylum within our coven, and I refused your request. You weren’t expecting her then, were you?” 

Lilith went still, breath catching as she remembered the very moment Zelda turned her away. Adeline whimpered, as if sensing her distress. “No. No, the child’s conception was… my salvation.” She rocked Adeline gently. A miracle, the girl was, for the first witch with her cursed womb, a stab in the dark she never would have attempted had she been left any other options.

Zelda nodded once. “I understand.” Men, and their unholy obsessions with having _heirs_. “How has it been, your… time in Hell, now that Adeline is safely harbored? Do you still find yourself in danger?” 

“I find myself alone.” Lilith bit her tongue as the last word left her lips, as if she could take back what had been said. She took a deep breath. “I can handle myself,” she added, trying to reassert herself, to reassure Zelda that she had the situation under control. 

“Of course you can.” Zelda meant that, genuinely. She knew enough to surmise that Lilith had not survived all those thousands of years without sharpened self-preservational skills. “I hope it does give you the peace of mind you sought, having her here.”

“Yes,” Lilith said simply, feeling her walls climbing as the seconds ticked by. She held Adeline to her chest, focusing on her warmth -- yes, at least she was safe, here. Safe and yet… so very far away.

Silence reigned for a short while, save for the occasional gentle snore from a sleeping beagle. Zelda could not help but view Lilith in a different light, though admittedly her perception of the demon queen had changed months before. In all the chaos and catastrophe of the Eldritch, a child had been born and Lilith had softened and even though Zelda had largely passed off the duty of checking in on mother and child to Hilda, the image of Lilith cradling her newborn baby coupled with the incredibly high emotional charge of that particular day was cemented in her mind. Now, she watched Lilith savor each second with Adeline and felt more than a twinge of sadness knowing that it could not last. 

“You are welcome to visit her whenever you please,” Zelda eventually spoke up. “And should you ever wish to stay the night, we have a spare room. My sister and her husband moved out after Sabrina moved back in---newlyweds, you know. They need their space.” She offered a thin smile in an attempt to ease the somber mood. “Sabrina splits her time between here and the Academy. Ambrose keeps much to himself, when he isn’t working downstairs. There are plenty of opportunities for you to spend quality time with Adeline.”

“Well,” Lilith said softly, rocking Adeline gently in her arms, “That sounds… quite tempting.” A full _night_ with her child, as before? A sudden, almost overwhelming desire took hold, Lilith swallowing it back. She was tired, she realized suddenly, an exhaustion felt deep in her bones, and yet all she wanted was to stare at Adeline, to hold her and never let her go. “What about tonight?”

Perhaps Zelda had seen that coming. Perhaps it was why she brought up the spare room in the first place, even subconsciously. “I can’t see why not. We can move the bassinet in so Adeline can sleep alongside you.” 

Lilith nodded, rising from her chair. She did not want to hesitate, lest caution take over and change her mind. “After you.” 

It did not take long for the arrangements to be made. Lilith found the spare room quite accommodating, traces of the younger Spellman sister and her partner nearly invisible, space cozy and warm. She lit a smattering of candles with hardly a twitch of her fingers, flickering light casting a soft glow over Adeline’s face. 

Zelda made good on her offer to move the bassinet beside the bed -- and despite Lilith’s desire to hold Adeline for hours on end, she knew her child, and knew they would both sleep better separately. She glanced at Zelda, watching her move stray items into a corner, waiting for the all clear.

“Should you need anything else, I am just down the hall---last door on your left.” The witch lingered, hand on the doorknob, for reasons she could not quite explain. “Goodnight, little lamb,” she cooed to the baby, and then she looked up and met Lilith’s gaze. “Goodnight.” 

Vinegar Tom sat just outside the door, tail moving from side to side ever so slightly---his polite way of reminding Zelda that it was past _his_ bedtime, thank you very much. He trotted down the hall and went right to his cushion at the foot of the bed, refusing to settle until she too had climbed under the covers. 

As usual, the dog fell asleep first. Zelda tossed and turned, blaming her restlessness on the fact that she was accustomed to Adeline’s presence in the room before realizing that the gnawing feeling in her gut owed not to that, but rather to something Lilith had said in the kitchen.. 

_I find myself alone_. 

The Queen, alone. Surrounded by her court, by her self-appointed council, by her subjects both loyal and disloyal and yet… Zelda understood, because they had that in common. 

No, she herself was not queen of anything. She had no court, no council, no subjects loyal or otherwise---but she established and led the Order of Hecate, served as Directrix of the Academy of Unseen Arts, and at the end of the day she too went to bed with only her thoughts and woke up just the same. Hilda’s permanent departure from the family home had hit harder than expected, for she was newly married and living, for the first time, a life separate from that of her sister. 

A happy ending for Hilda, who deserved it. Another woman’s child to raise for Zelda, who had the power she wanted and the status for which she worked so hard, and yet… she was not happy. And as far as she was concerned, that was just the way things were meant to be. After all, she did not deserve the good things her sister had, the better things sure to come Hilda’s way. _You’ll reap what you sow, Zelda Spellman, one way or another,_ her mother used to say. How she had indeed found those damning words to be true, in very many ways and very recently, at that.

When the tossing and turning went on too long, Zelda gave in and plucked from her bedside drawer one of the “emergency sleep aids” Hilda had concocted to help with the semi-frequent bouts of insomnia plaguing her in the not-so-distant past. She took the vial’s contents quickly, like a shot of whiskey, chased it with water, and by the time her head once again came to rest on her pillow, she was already beginning to drift off. 

She dreamt of many things, some fantastical and some strange and out of the blue, Lilith. In the morning she woke flushed and flummoxed, an effect surely brought on by the nature of those dreams, potion-induced and lingering.

Sunlight was creeping in past the curtains. Beside her bed Adeline lay asleep in the bassinet, a note scrawled in looping script left on her spare pillow:

_Did not wish to wake you. She’s been bathed & fed. Thank you for the evening. Until next time… - L_


	6. Hell, Headaches, and Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilith comes for an unplanned visit when baby Adeline catches her first cold, only to find that Zelda could use some coddling as well.

The baby was running a fever. 

Such a thing was not uncommon in infants, but Zelda did not like to take chances with broad assumptions. Better safe than sorry, as the old adage said. She examined Adeline herself, consulted the few medical texts scattered about the house, and even asked Hilda over to check the babe as a second opinion. Hilda’s findings aligned with her own; Adeline seemed to be suffering only a minor respiratory ailment, same as Sabrina often had as a child. No cause for concern. Even so, Zelda thought it best to contact Lilith---she knew well enough that if _her_ child were ill, she would want to be told.

Nearly three months had passed since Adeline’s arrival at the Spellman home and the beginning of this unusual arrangement, and still Zelda was not entirely keen on summoning Lilith out of the blue on a Wednesday evening. They had all fallen into a schedule consistent enough as was possible, wherein Lilith visited her daughter two or three times every couple of weeks, staying overnight more often than not. Due to the fact that Lilith needed to keep her trips to Greendale secret, there was no rhyme or reason to when she might drop in, and Zelda often received very little advance warning beforehand. Most of their communication was done the safest and most secure way---in person. 

Zelda paced the length of the kitchen, gently rocking a fussy Adeline back and forth in her arms, for the rocking motion soothed the baby and the pacing, as ever, soothed _her._ She tugged on the chain around her neck, pulling the moonstone up from its place hidden beneath her dress and slip, and when the bauble was free Adeline hushed, staring up at it like she knew its secret. Could the child feel her mother’s magic? A pang of something---regret, or guilt, or sadness---settled in Zelda’s chest. Whatever that connection was, she could only speculate. She would never know it for herself. 

She ran her thumb over the smooth surface of the stone, spoke Lilith’s name aloud once, and waited.

The timing was… unfortunate.

Lilith was not in her quarters, nor occupied with any sort of official business -- but rather half-clothed and pressed against the wall of a quiet room hidden behind the infernal library, coaxing the witch known as Elvyra toward her third orgasm of the evening.

The moonstone, ordinarily hidden beneath Lilith’s clothing, had been expertly tied around her ankle and cloaked with invisibility. Elvyra could be trusted with nearly everything -- but when it came to Adeline, Lilith took no chances.

Given the circumstances, she did not immediately feel the stone’s warmth, Zelda’s call briefly lost to the din of sex. Elvyra was moaning, writhing beneath her touch, Lilith smiling between kisses as she fingered her. It was not until the stone grew hot enough to burn that Lilith winced and pulled away, breaking the scene.

Groaning, Elvyra straightened. “What’s wrong?” Her eyes narrowed, watching in confusion as Lilith bent down, grasping at her ankle. 

Lilith wished she knew the answer. “I’m afraid I must go. Forgive me.”

And without another word, she was gone. Landing in her darkened quarters, she removed the gentle spell over the moonstone and gasped at its blinding light, the stone glowing hot and bright. She could feel the witch’s magic. Lilith lit the fireplace, saying without any further hesitation, “Zelda. What’s happened?”

Enough time had passed that Zelda was considering calling again when that transmission at last came through. “No need for alarm,” she made sure to say first thing, “Apologies for the interruption, but I thought it pertinent to let you know that Adeline has come down with her first fever. It isn’t anything at all to worry about, I simply… would want to be made aware, if I were in your shoes. You’re welcome to visit, of course, if you wish.” 

_Fever_. Lilith felt a distinct chill in her blood, thoughts racing at the image of Adeline, ill. “I can heal her. I can be there… shortly, I just need to…” Put on clothes, to start. “Give me just a few minutes.”

“Lilith,” Zelda kept her voice grounded and even, “You need not rush, and I strongly advise against any attempt toward healing her. She is six months old, and her little body needs to learn how to fight sickness as well as how to recover from it. We did the same with Sabrina when she was a baby, just as our parents did with us. Dare I say we all came out better for it in the end.” 

Lilith bit her tongue, frustration mixing with fear. “I see. Well, I… will be there shortly, nonetheless. Thank you for calling.”

She severed the connection, tossing the moonstone onto her bed and rifling through the wardrobe for something to wear. Settling on a crimson-colored dress and tall boots, she took the briefest of glances at her reflection, adjusting her hair slightly and replacing the stone around her neck before beginning her complicated teleportation.

She needed to see Adeline.

Minutes later, she reached her destination, finding Zelda waiting for her on the porch. A moth flickered near the lamp, crickets chirping in the yard. “Where is she?”

“Just inside.” The witch took a drag from her cigarette, caught as usual in the contraption hooked around her finger. “Vinegar Tom is sitting with her. He’s an exceptional babysitter.”

Zelda, as far as Lilith was concerned, was far too calm. Adeline was ill, yet here Zelda sat, _smoking_ while her canine familiar watched over her daughter? 

Had she been less… anxious, surely she would have seen the wisdom in such an approach, would have realized that Zelda knew babies and illness far better than the First Witch with a long-cursed womb, who so rarely fell sick that the very concept seemed… terribly _mortal_. But Lilith was frightened, and defensive. “She’s ill, and you’ve let your… dog keep her company?”

“I was up with her all night,” said Zelda, calm and collected, for that was the truth. She thought it best to harness Lilith’s anxiety sooner rather than later, as the baby did not need the added stress sure to seep through that magical mother-child bond. “I merely came outside to await your arrival---as has been our custom. If this was a matter of life and death, Lilith, I assure you I would not be anywhere except at her side, and I would have summoned _you_ much sooner. She is perfectly _fine._ ” 

_All night_. Lilith heaved a breath, willing herself to calm down. “I… apologize. You must be terribly tired. Please, if you would — I’d like to see her.”

“Of course.” 

Cigarette still in hand, Zelda led the way into the house. She had not missed the breathless delivery of nearly every word out of Lilith’s mouth, nor the faint traces of brick-red lipstick smeared on her neck. Over the past few months, the two women had gotten to know one another reasonably well---yet now, she found herself in possession of knowledge previously undiscovered, and she was surprised to feel strangely pleased by the small, unanticipated revelation that Lilith, too, enjoyed the company of other women. 

...Zelda kept that to herself.

Vinegar Tom was seated beside the bassinet, temporarily relocated to the living room, fully alert and at attention until his mistress gave the all-clear. Adeline was awake but content, as though she knew exactly what was going on, understood that her mother had come to provide her comfort. Zelda pressed the back of her hand to the baby’s forehead, gauging her temperature.

“Her fever has held steady for several hours,” she told Lilith, “A plateau is better than the alternative.”

Lilith’s heart ached as she finally caught sight of her daughter, awake, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy. “Adeline,” she murmured, going straight to her side, fingers closing around the baby’s tiny hand. Her skin was indeed warm, energy weaker than usual. Every instinct Lilith had was screaming at her to heal the child. “Are you… certain this is normal?” She turned to Zelda, seeking reassurance. 

Zelda nodded. “Absolutely. She has nothing more than an infant’s version of the common cold---and yes, I know how pedestrian and _mortal_ that sounds, but that is _all_ it is.” She paused, then, “She was fussy all afternoon, and remained so even after her evening feeding. She only calmed down when I called for you, and now that you’re here… look at that. Quiet as a sweet little mouse.” 

Lilith could feel her body beginning to relax. She had, after all, chosen Zelda to care for her baby for a reason — the witch knew what she was doing.

Adeline was fine. 

“Thank you,” she murmured, turning back to the baby and smiling down into her flushed face. Adeline blinked. “For summoning me, and for caring for her. Now and… always.” She glanced at Zelda, noting how tired the witch looked. “I can stay up with her, tonight.”

It was early, yet---not quite nine---but the witch _was_ ready to retire to her room. Long gone were the days when Lilith did not know her way around the Spellman home; surely she could manage on her own. 

“I suspect she’ll sleep for at least a little while, eventually,” said Zelda, “You should sleep, too, if that is indeed the case.” The baby had recently graduated to a crib, which had been moved into the guest room weeks before, solely for Lilith’s convenience. “You’ll find the thermometer upstairs, beside the crib. I recommend relocating her there---we were only spending time down here for a change of scenery this afternoon.” 

“Thank you,” Lilith said again, reaching down to lift Adeline out of her bassinet. The baby girl squirmed, face scrunching up in displeasure as Lilith gathered her into her arms. “Shh, it’s alright, beastie.” Rocking her gently, she took a seat on the couch, resting for a moment as Zelda headed into the kitchen. Vinegar Tom, loyal as ever, followed his mistress out.

The night proved… difficult. Adeline was restless, quite clearly uncomfortable and beginning to cough. Lilith spent the hours alternating between holding her, cooling her small body with the _gentlest_ of magic, and laying her down when she inevitably fell into a light, easily interrupted sleep. By dawn, she was exhausted.

It was not until a bleary-eyed trip to the bathroom that she noticed it — a smear of faded lipstick, lingering on her neck. Elvyra’s. Lilith pulled her hair aside, wiping it away as she fought a wry smile. Well. If Zelda had noticed, she had not said a word.

Before seven she heard movement in the house. Adeline stirred, beginning to cry. Lilith scooped her up, checking her temperature without the thermometer — still elevated — and singing to her quietly, calming her. 

Lilith was first to the kitchen, holding Adeline close as she squinted at the percolator Zelda had taught her, again and again and again, how to use. She remained firm in her belief that the contraption was more trouble than it was worth. Yet Zelda could not, Lilith had discovered, function properly in the morning without coffee. Extra strong, if the witch was working — which would likely be the case on this particular day, given that she herself was present to care for Adeline. 

And so she filled the percolator with coffee beans and water, recalling the overly specific instructions without needing to consult the hand-scribbled note Hilda had left pinned to the fridge. The baby whimpered, whining and squirming before starting to cough again, a rough, raspy sound that made Lilith feel ill. This was cruel, making her suffer this way. 

But she had agreed to trust Zelda. If this would… benefit Adeline in the future, she knew it was necessary to let the illness… run its course. As painful as it was to witness.

At nearly eight she heard footsteps on the stairs. Zelda, just in time for coffee.

“Her fever hasn’t yet broken?” was the first thing out of her mouth, upon noting the baby’s flushed little cheeks. “Has it gone up or down at all?” 

“Yes,” Lilith replied, leaning against the counter by the sink and watching the witch run through her morning routine.“After a… spike after around midnight it seems to have… returned to what it was in the evening.” She looked down at Adeline, the baby’s eyes fluttering closed. “She’s begun to cough.”

“Poor little lamb.” 

Cup of coffee in hand, Zelda petted Adeline’s cheek. Still warm, and the tiny cough that followed was pitifully sad. She considered taking an absence from the Academy for the second day in a row---but so long as Lilith was present, there was no reason she could not leave mother and child together, same as she had done many times since Lilith’s visits became commonplace. Besides, it might do Lilith some good to care for Adeline in this state. 

She took a few steps back, sipping at her coffee before going on, “Unfortunately, that is to be expected. She has nasal congestion, which results in a cough, and being as young as she is, cough medicine in the traditional sense is not safe to administer.” Next, she set down her cup and bent to remove the lid of a large glass jar, from which she scooped a cup and a half of dog food into her familiar’s bowl atop the small placemat beside his bed. To Lilith, she said, “I’ll bring down the humidifier before I leave---all you’ll have to do is plug it in wherever you and Adeline settle for the day, and the moisture in the air will help loosen up all of that unpleasantness.”

The tic-tic-tic of canine nails sounded from the direction of the foyer, and in trotted Vinegar Tom, delivering Zelda’s morning papers as had become his custom. 

“Thank you,” she told him, and tucked the papers under her arm. “Eat your breakfast before we go, please.” 

He did not have to be told twice. 

Lilith took advantage of the slight pause, Zelda agreeing to hold Adeline for a few minutes as the demon queen took a brief — very brief — trip to the infernal realm to ensure all was well in her absence. Making the necessary arrangements with her Council without divulging too much information, Lilith returned to the mortuary just as Zelda was finishing her coffee.

“That’s that. When you do you expect to… return?” They had done this before, but never when Adeline was ill. 

“The usual time.” Zelda looked up, waiting until the other woman met her eyes. Lilith’s nervousness was nearly palpable. “You _and_ she will be just fine, Lilith. You know how to reach me, should you need anything---and please, don’t hesitate to do so.” 

Lilith just nodded, once. “Until then.”

_______________________

So much for a productive workday.

The stack of incomplete paperwork left on Zelda’s desk two days ago had somehow doubled in size, and she was barely through a quarter of it when the vision in her left eye began to dim, signaling an oncoming migraine. She went through the usual preventative steps---drawing the curtains to eliminate any and all traces of light, downing a potion Hilda had practically patented years ago for this very purpose, reclining with her eyes closed for a while---but within half an hour, the headache took hold. It should not have been a surprise, given that several weeks had passed since her last migraine attack, and she had slept poorly the previous night... and not a wink the night before that. 

When Hilda, as usual, came to deliver her lunch, Zelda held up a hand to silence her sister before she could do so much as take a breath, let alone speak. The younger Spellman did not have to ask any questions; she could tell simply from her sister’s slumped posture and furrowed brow that a headache was the culprit, and likely a rather troublesome one, at that. 

“I brought your favorite---ham and brie on a fresh baguette, little bit of dijon mustard on the side,” she whispered, creeping forward at a snail’s pace to deposit the tray on Zelda’s desk. “Might do you some good to get something in your stomach, love.” 

Zelda shook her head, turning in the opposite direction of the meal’s wafting aroma. She swore her olfactory senses were somehow heightened when suffering a migraine. “I have absolutely no appetite, Hilda, I assure you.” 

Hilda withdrew the tray almost as soon as she set it down. “Well, let me at least brew you some tea, and find a potion---”

“No tea,” she protested, cutting her off, “You know how nauseated I get when I feel this way.”

“Right.” _Not to mention temperamental _, Hilda thought, but wisely kept to herself. “If you feel well enough to drive, Zelds, maybe you should just… call it a day, head home early?”__

__Vinegar Tom, laying at his mistress's feet, gave a low _woof_ of agreement. _ _

__Zelda opened her mouth to offer a rebuttal before realizing she _had_ no rebuttal. Lilith was taking care of the baby, which meant she could go directly upstairs and lay in total darkness with an ice pack on her temples for as long as she needed. _ _

__“I’ll get a jumpstart on some of that,” Hilda gestured toward the pile of unfinished business, sensing she was actually getting through to her sister and hoping to sweeten the deal. “You go home and rest up, while you’ve got the chance. I can come by and watch Adeline after Lilith’s gone, just say the word.”_ _

__Zelda did not give herself time to rethink things. She left the Academy in perhaps record time, sunglasses on despite a cloudy day, and Vinegar Tom in tow. The drive was mercifully short, all two of the traffic lights she had to pass on the way changing in her favor._ _

__Yet she knew, climbing the front steps with her familiar on her heels, that she would not be able to reach her bedroom without encountering Lilith. The demon queen had likely sensed her presence before her car had even entered the driveway -- but at the very least, it gave her an opportunity to check on poor Adeline._ _

__Sure enough, Lilith was waiting for her._ _

__“Everything alright?” Sitting on the stairs with Adeline in her arms, Lilith watched as Zelda closed the front door with a gentle push. The baby stirred, coughing quietly._ _

__“Fine,” was her automatic response, though she sounded far from it. “How is she?”_ _

__Lilith watched Zelda, noting the sunglasses, the tension in her posture. “Her fever has dipped, but the cough has become... more frequent.” She paused for the space of a breath before asking, “Are you… unwell?” She supposed it would not be surprising if the witch had managed to catch whatever ailed Adeline._ _

__“Just a headache. Hilda graciously offered to step in at the Academy for the rest of the afternoon.” _Just a headache._ The pressure behind Zelda’s eyes was excruciating, even with her sunglasses still in place, and she felt somehow more nauseous now than she had with that sandwich right in front of her. “Her cough sounds worse than it actually is---hard to believe, I know, but as long as her fever is going in the right direction, it isn’t anything to worry over. I’ll be upstairs, should you need me.”_ _

__Lilith just watched as Zelda walked toward her, eyes following the witch as she brushed past her on the staircase, marching straight up the stairs and down the hall to her bedroom. Tom trudged after her. “Well,” Lilith murmured, adjusting Adeline in her arms and rising to her feet, “Where were we?”_ _

__

____________________________ _

__

__Three hours passed uneventfully, Adeline falling asleep beside the humidifier long enough for Lilith to read an entire spellbook Ambrose had left on the kitchen table (in case of boredom, he said). The old magic was familiar, the discussion of potions particularly interesting, if somewhat tedious. By the time Adeline woke, Lilith was ready for a break, checking the baby’s temperature — nearly normal, and that was a relief — and walking her around the house a few times, just to stretch her legs._ _

__It was hours yet until dusk, but Lilith was all too aware of the time ticking by. She sang quietly to Adeline, rocking her gently and wiping her runny nose, trying not to think about how soon she would be departing once more for Hell, how soon she would be handing her sick daughter back to Zelda._ _

___Zelda._ _ _

__Hours had passed since the witch had returned, yet all remained quiet upstairs. A headache, Zelda had said — but surely she would have reappeared by now, had it been that simple._ _

__Once again the thought nagged at her -- perhaps Zelda had caught the very illness that ailed Adeline. The possibility bothered Lilith, for reasons she did not entirely understand. For several minutes she paced near the front door, stalling, Adeline content in her arms._ _

__But she was… concerned._ _

__Ambrose, taking a break from his mortuary duties, agreed to watch Adeline, allowing Lilith to climb the stairs to Zelda’s bedroom alone. Yet standing outside the door without Adeline felt… strange. Wrong, somehow. As if she were not welcome._ _

__Nevertheless, she knocked._ _

__Inside, Zelda turned her head to squint at her bedside clock. Already going on half past four, and even after spending hours doing nothing but laying atop the covers with an enchanted ice pack pressed to her left temple, she was not feeling much better than when she first arrived home._ _

__She sipped at the glass of water kept beside her bed, needing to wet her dry throat. “Come in,” she called, for unless there was a fire or some other urgent disaster in progress, she was _not_ going to move._ _

__Lilith turned the knob, pushing the door open and squinting as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Zelda lay on the bed, holding something to her temple — her energy was noticeably low, magic cloudy. Lilith stepped into the room, aiming for polite courtesy, “It’s… getting late. Are you alright?”_ _

__“Yes.” Feeling suddenly vulnerable in her current state, Zelda slowly eased herself up to recline against the headboard. “I… suppose you’ll need to take your leave sooner rather than later.” _Of course._ It was not realistic to expect Lilith to stay another night, migraine or not. “And Adeline will be hungry for her supper, before long.” She swallowed, steeling herself against the unpleasantness that getting to her feet would surely bring. “Give me a moment to freshen up.” _ _

__Zelda was lying. Well. Lilith supposed she would do the same, were their positions reversed. But if the witch was truly unwell… “If you’ve caught whatever ails Adeline, perhaps I should… stay, another night.” Rather than retreat to the door, Lilith found herself taking several steps toward the bed, seeking Zelda’s eyes._ _

__“It isn’t that.” There was no choice but to explain, vulnerability be damned. Zelda drew in a breath, then went on, “I have a migraine---I’ve suffered with them off and on since I was Sabrina’s age. The timing of this particular attack is unfortunate, but I have certainly persevered through worse.” Meeting Lilith’s gaze was difficult for reasons she could not quite pin down, but she tried nevertheless. “We’ll be fine, truly. No need for you to put yourself at risk by staying.”_ _

___Migraine._ Lilith’s nostrils flared in sympathy. Zelda was far from the first witch she had known to suffer migraines, a pain she knew to be quite… debilitating. _ _

__“Zelda.” Lilith sank down onto the edge of the mattress, holding the witch’s gaze. Months ago, weeks even, she would never have made the offer that now came spilling so easily out of her mouth, “Let me help.”_ _

__Zelda merely blinked. To say that proposition was unexpected was an understatement, though perhaps it should not have been. She had held Lilith’s hands while the woman _gave birth_ , for Hecate’s sake. She had seen Lilith at her most vulnerable. A headache, by comparison, was next to nothing, and therefore she supposed she could allow this. Whatever _this_ turned out to be. _ _

__Unable to stop herself, she asked, “How?”_ _

__“Healing magic,” Lilith murmured, averting her eyes. Perhaps this was a mistake. Perhaps there was not yet enough trust between them. Pushing aside the uncertainty, she continued, “If you… allow me, I will show you.”_ _

__“Go on.”_ _

__Without a word Lilith reached out, watching Zelda carefully to ensure she remained comfortable — tense, but comfortable — before pressing her fingertips gently to the witch’s temples. Her left was cold, chilled by an ice pack Zelda had just removed — but she was warm, her magic mingling with Lilith’s._ _

__“Relax.”_ _

__Migraines were not easy to heal. It was not a fusing of bone or joining of flesh, but rather a complex combination of targeting blood cells and brain chemicals. Difficult, but doable — and easier now, thanks to the power she had taken from Lucifer._ _

__It was over in seconds._ _

__“There.” Lilith pulled back, finding herself almost disappointed to break the connection with the witch, her magic fading immediately._ _

__The pain was gone, only a scant amount of pressure lingering in its place._ _

__Zelda could not quite believe it; never in her life had she experienced such immediate, instantaneous relief. She realized she was waiting for a catch of some sort, for an unwelcome side effect or repercussion to present itself---and Lilith was waiting for _her_ to say something._ _

__“Thank you,” she finally spoke, looking up. “I… I feel much better, now.”_ _

__Their eyes remained locked for a moment too long, the air practically crackling between them. Renewed energy seeped its way through Zelda’s veins, until she felt like herself once more, and still, she did not move. The ice pack, with its non-melting magic firmly in place, remained in her left hand, so cold it had dulled all feeling in her palm._ _

__“Well.” Something had changed, shifted between them. Lilith swallowed, nodding as she forced herself to stand, trying to ignore whatever emotion had risen so suddenly into her chest. “Good. Adeline is downstairs, with Ambrose. Her fever is nearly gone, but I would appreciate an… update tomorrow, if it’s not too much trouble.”_ _

__Zelda followed suit, at last getting to her feet for the first time in over three hours and finding that even then, the headache remained cured. Vanished. Almost as though it had never plagued her at all._ _

__“Of course,” she was quick to assure, “I’ll call first thing in the morning, if that suits?” She set the ice pack on her vanity, and tried to pretend that her hand was not completely numb._ _

__“Yes,” Lilith replied, already heading toward the door. “Thank you for… caring for her. Good night.”_ _

__“Good… night,” Zelda echoed the sentiment, never mind that it was not yet five o’clock in the evening._ _

__Once Lilith had gone, she sank back down onto the bed and simply sat for a moment, feeling slightly dazed and unable to shake the white-hot warmth of the other witch’s magic in her veins. Perhaps the sensation would persist, at least temporarily, now that Lilith had healed her._ _

__Well, she thought, there could certainly be worse side effects than that._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for taking a bit longer than usual to update! We originally had a totally different version of this chapter in mind and then decided this iteration of it worked better for storytelling purposes. Thanks for being patient and sticking with us :)   
> Feedback is always appreciated, if you feel inclined to leave some.
> 
> xx,  
> C & E


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